Tempting

Eleven

I showered when we returned to the palace and put on loungewear composed of a burgundy off the shoulder top and gray cashmere shorts.

We'd eaten dinner on the beach since we'd stayed until sundown. But it was nearly eight o'clock when Bianca and I went down to the main kitchen to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

"Is it just me or does peanut butter taste better in Portugal?" She licked her finger.

"Bianca, Jif is an American brand." I said cocking my eyebrow at her. She tilted her head then shrugged.

"Well it still tastes better while we're in Portugal." I shook my head and finished spreading peanut butter on one slice of bread.

"You're lucky I love you or I would've been livid about what happened at the beach."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to see her reaction so you could figure out whether to tell her not."

"That wasn't your responsibility but whatever." I continued to spread onto a second slice.

"My bad." She looked at me sincerely. Then she snapped. "Shit, I should go take my pills before I eat this and blow up for the gala." She sighed. "Give me a minute." She left me in the insanely big kitchen to get her pills.

I made sure to cover the hickey previously spotted with some make up. I didn't need any Metallic staff asking any further questions after I'd dodged that bullet with Noela.

"I love a woman that can cook." I jumped at the voice that entered, dropping the butter knife on the ground.

"Jesus Christ!" I looked up at Francisco in his white Ralph Lauren thermal pants and bare chest. It should be illegal for this man to walk around with his chest exposed in any way. Or he should at least get fined. He was totally killing me.
"This isn't cooking."

"True." He leaned on the opposite side of the island that was probably 7 yards long. "But there's something sexy about it." He smirked. "Lick your fingers baby." I picked up the knife and shook my head.

"No." I sighed.
"And while you're here I can make it clear to you that we will no longer do anything sexual from this point forward." I pointed the knife at him. "And I'm serious."

"No you're not." He chuckled, grabbing an apple from the fruit rack.

"Yes I am Francisco." I said firmly.

"So how was your day?" He asked, disregarding my statement. I held his gaze, trying hard to stay serious and stern but I cracked. For the time being.

"I went to the beach with Bianca and Noela."

"Oh, Praia da Adraga. Did you like it?"

"I loved it actually. It was beautiful." He nodded in agreement and bit into his apple.

"It's actually very famous. There have been movies filmed there and photoshoots."

"You would know about the photoshoots." I remarked, closing my sandwich together. Francisco smiled.

"So you know about my former occupation?"

"Yes, and I could imagine it clearly. You always have your shirt off anyway so modeling is right up your alley." I took a bite. "Oh and you're arrogant as hell."

"I know I am açúcar." He laughed. "Look, my mother insisted that I model since I was the youngest. So I was arrogant from birth." He flashed a charming grin. I couldn't help but smile.

"So how does that work? You being so young and Noela's dad being your brother if he's almost fifty."

"Well, in order to inherit her father's fortune, my mother needed to marry early so she married our father at eighteen. She had Rufino first, then Fabio who moved to Spain, then she had me at thirty-nine." He concluded. I'd been under the impression that they only shared one parent but now I understood. Not weird when it's explained.